Neckties and the Art of Getting Kicked Out of Galleries
by Theta Waves
Summary: Karkat gets a chance to take Jade out for a day. While Jade thinks it's the perfect chance for her to get through Karkat's mask of outrage, to the sensitive side underneath; he just hopes to get through it without having an anxiety attack. Rated T for continuous low-level profanity.
1. Chapter 1

Neckties and the Art of Getting Kicked Out of Galleries

By: Theta Waves

**Author's Note: As a disclaimer, I do not own Homestuck in any way. It is completely a work of Andrew Hussie, and this is a made-up work of fan fiction. Also, I'd be glad to know if you have any suggestions for the story, or if you even have a bit of critique you'd like to share. Feel free to post a review, or send me a Private Message if that's easier for you**

Chapter 1

Whoever invented the necktie is doubtlessly a man of incredible evils, and deserves no less than to be paying for this grave mistake by way of eternal suffering in the deepest vaults of Hell.

These were the kinds of thoughts that boiled about in the think-pan of Karkat Vantas at his place of work

_Perhaps,_ he further brooded, _I should dedicate my life to crime and evil if only to meet the gent' in Hell just to have the opportunity to use his human blood-pusher in a softball game with Ted Bundy._

His eyes snapped wide and he dropped the pen he'd been twirling absent-mindedly. Ted bundy had no place in his daydreams, and he should never pursue an avenue of thought involving anyone, really, of the Bundy persuasion.

After clearing the self-induced shock from his face, he lifted his chin from the elbow, his own, that he had been resting on, picked up the pen he had dropped onto his laptop, squinted at it in a decidedly ornery fashion and placed it between his teeth. Contrary to most other aspects of his living conditions, Karkat kept his laptop in very good shape. That much could be deduced by the state of his desk. Directly in front of him was a well-kept slab of hardware and wiring. On either side of it, however, there peacefully coexisted sheafs of paper, wrappers from various foods, pencils broken in fits of rage, and work documents anointed with various doodles conceived during countless bouts of boredom.

It didn't matter much, he never really got reprimanded for it. He was a paper-pusher, and the only reason he had a job at this particular magazine publishing firm was because his dear friend Kanaya knew the chief editor, and that, combined with otherwise inexplicable pull with the whole system, got you a job that demanded little, and certainly paid the rent. You weren't expected to do much work. You gathered that they perhaps feared you due to the air of hostility that orbits you. Converations stopped when you passed by, your desk found itself avoided, and your higher-ups sought to do little but pacify you with busy-work, and interact with you as little as possible. To be honest, that suited you fine. It meant you had to put in an average of two productive work hours in a day, and you were bothered vary little by your peers in the office. Not that it mattered to you; the people working here were vastly boring, self-centered, and dense. But Hell if it didn't get boring.

Besides boredom, though, today was dragging along slower than it normally would, because you secretly can't wait for tonight. Tonight, like many a night before, you would be hanging out at Rose's apartment with your mutual friends. After the game, you all stayed close. After such an intense and emotional experience, you all wordlessly decided that not even in a world as crazy would drive you apart. In fact, all of your detachment from society due to years away served only to bring you all closer. You guys did everything together though, and little was held secret, and oddly enough, Lalonde's apartment became a common meeting place for your dysfunctional group. Technically it was Rose and John's apartment, but that goober will never strike you as someone who can fill out any of the paperwork required to live in an apartment.

You guys never cease to be together, so why do you never cease to be excited? /you pretend in your mind that it isn't because of Harley. The facial expressions of a petulant teenaged asshole and shy lover-boy compete for dominance and call it a draw at giving you a screwy scowl and a blush.

It's not your fault that those blazing emerald eyes make the world fall away around you. In fact, the first glance burned them into your mind; hanging vaguely in front of memories, and often there in the dark of night when you call for them. Not your fault that when she puts on that adorable as all Hell half-lidded grin you become putty in her hands. Not at all. You're glad to be going because your friends mean the world to you, and seeing them is like Rapture and wriggling day and human Christmas rolled up into a single disgusting human enchilada sleeping bag like a happy goddamn family.

Just fifteen more minutes until you stuff your possessions into your messenger bag, stop off at the apartment you share with Sollux and head off to Rose's

You might be pressed for time, so your glad you won't have to change; a white button-up with rolled up sleeves and gray slacks works fine, and, you hope, will be enough to impress Jade. You wish Sollux were going, but he still happened to be nocturnal and worked night shifts. Having Sollux there for back-up and, more likely, emotional support would be welcome, but you guess you'll just have to fly solo this time.

_Should I bring flowers?_

_No, idiot,_ you chide yourself with a slap on the forehead for good measure,_ who goes to a group social gathering with flowers with an as-of-yet platonic friend? Are you joking?_

You decide it's best to just show up. Act casual. Be all sorts of smooth.

You follow this preparatory train fo thought, and before you know it, the assholes around you are packing up.

Quittin' time already?


	2. Chapter 2

Neckties and the Art of Getting Kicked Out of Galleries

**Author's note: I felt like I should say that the narrative point of view often shifts between the third person, and adopting Karkat's point of view in order to bolster effect; there are things that often become easier to describe from the characters perspective. Once again, if you have any critique, helpful suggestions, or any burning questions, feel free to leave a review or send me a message.**

Chapter 2

By Theta Waves

Time sure flies when you're terrified.

Sweeps ago, when Karkat sat at home wondering what his life would be like when he was older, standing in front of a lovely door at an alien's apartment, holding a tray of chicken-salad sandwiches, about to sweat through your shirt with nervousness and scared enough to vomit was the furthest scenario from your mind. The sweat problem, though, gave him a new sympathy for Equius.

He had picked up the tray of flavorless-looking sandwiches on the way over. He was walking along the street at a constant low-level panic about the whole Jade-affair when he was gripped by the sudden fear of looking like a fool if he brought nothing to this shin-dig. He ducked into a corner store, and spent eight fruitless minutes looking for a nice tray of vegetables, fruits, and that nice speckled dip. When he caught the tray of chicken salad finger sandwiches with his eye, he paused, stared at it in a thoughtless haze for a long moment, before audibly shrugging out, "Who doesn't like chicken salad?"

And now, he was here, four floors up in a nice apartment building, and contemplating throwing himself, along with his delicious party gift, out the nearest window.

Instead, he stared hopelessly into the metallic lettering on the door of apartment 413, looking for answers in the chrome work.

They held none.

Damn you, human chrome work.

He carefully raised a shaking left hand, and tap tap taps on the door.

Wait, what? Don't tap it, knock or something, idiot.

He tried to steel himself, adopted his trademark rude outrage, and decided to just open the door in a Karkat-like fashion, only to be greeted by the sight of a nice looking elderly couple reading a newspaper together.

He locked eyes with them, and spoke not a word, as words could not describe his mortification, in what was the single most self-defenestration worthy moment in his life

"Wrong uh, -er, wrong door…nice place."

He gave them a little bow, nearly tripped on his feet, and backed out of the room slowly as he softly shut the door. Now that the door was closed, he felt he was perfectly justified in shouting-

"HELL AND HUMAN HORSESHIT!"

To his left, as if on cue, an identical door opened to reveal the pale Rose human leaning on the doorframe, with a very slight curl about the ends of her lips.

"Wrong door, Karkat? We keep telling you that we're in apartment four-_fourteen_."

"You guys can go to Hell! Four-thirteen is a super significant number, it's only right that you live there! You're only living one apartment over just to mess with me, aren't you?"

"We felt it best not to tempt fate. Won't you come in?"

"Why yes, how kind of you to _finally_ offer after leaving me stranded out here.

He glared at her as he marched past her over the threshold and into the abyss. Now that he was here, the fear of what lay behind the door was replaced by reality, and the speculation of everything that could go wrong.

Rose passed him on the left, swaying in the way she always does past the glass coffee table toward the open doorframe that led to the kitchen. John sat at the perfectly white fabric couch next to Dave as Rose passed, looking up at her with that doofy grin he always had around her. Dave pretended not to notice John's ogling as he half-lied on half the sofa.

The room itself was bright, warm and inviting; Rose's taste in décor always amazed you juxtaposed to her dark interests and tendencies. A rectangle, twenty feet across and nearly as wide. The couch is in the center atop gray-blue carpeting and facing a wall the housed the television. All about said television, lay John's shrine to cinema. You call it that in your mind, it's really just John's admittedly impressive collection of nearly every movie imaginable. And yes, he will tell you, they are all completely necessary. Whether or not they were any good is a different story. Behind the couch a tall window interrupts periwinkle walls that remind you of the sea. The whole room does, strangely enough. The doorframes are all painted white (Rose's idea) and you think it works quite nicely. On the right side of the couch, across the floor, are two empty doorframes: On the left, the kitchen, and on the right, the hallway. Gamzee sits on the back of the couch, looking dazed and staring vacantly toward the window. Terezi stands in front of him, talking with Kanaya whose indecipherable expression is probably due to Terezi's …abrasiveness.

_Well, good,_ you think as you finally breathe out,_ no Jade as of yet. Maybe she's sick_.

"Hey, Karkles!" Terezi grins at you in her Cheshire cat fashion that never ceases to weird you out. "I was starting to think you'd _never_ show up1"

"Oh yeah! Hey, buddy, what's up?" John joins in, looking at you sidelong from the couch, genuinely pleased, "You didn't walk into the wrong apartment again did you?"

"Take that human mouth-carpet of yours, knot it, and swallow it whole, Ebgert."

"We all love you too, Karkat."

"You should tell me where these belong, or else I might not be able to help myself from stuffing your stupid protein chute full with them." You gesture to the sandwiches to be clear. John raises an eyebrow. Probably because why the hell did you bring chicken salad sandwiches, anyway?

"Um… in the fridge, in the kitchen."

"Thanks for the directions, Magellan"

The bits of knowledge you've picked up from human culture further let you understand how shortsighted and tiny-minded their species is, but lets you insult them in a manner they'll understand better. You hope it makes insult hit that much closer to home.

You take off on your new heading toward the kitchen, Rose passing you on your way, and sitting herself down in her proper, mannerly, and utterly _precocious_ way on the couch. Gog, does she have to put on her dumb human airs all the time? The part of you that's always second-guessing asks you how you can tell she's being precocious, and you're just a cultureless slob. That's the part you hate, though.

You walk into the small kitchen and look left toward the refrigerator that you're going to somehow fit a covered tray into, when you notice that it's already being perused by a large, unruly mass of tresses and tresses of jet black hair leaving the person behind them, unidenti—Oh no it's Jade.

She cocks her head as if she's heard something, and turns toward you. This does nothing to disprove your theory that human females have a sensory adaptation that allows them to smell fear. All the females you've asked say no, and then rarely talk to you again, but you know they just keep it secret; yes you're sure of it. You consider setting the tray on the counter and booking it, but before you know it, it's too late, and she's turned right around to meet you. All goofy smiles, and wide, wire-rimmed glasses.

"Karkat? Karkat!" Her light dusting of freckles are pushed up by here genuine grin, just when you though a smile couldn't get any wider. "Oh, Karkat, I feel like I haven't seen you in forever!" She goes in for a hug, and, in a clever move, you excuse yourself from it due to the tray in the way of the two of you. You could swear disappointment crosses her face.

"Yes, Harley. It is I, Karkat. Now get your pallid hide away from the fridge. My precious cargo," you hold up the tray, "needs to be in that sustenance trunk five minutes ago."

This earns a wrinkling of the nose from her.

"_Of course_, brave Sir Knight!" She jumps to the side, doffs an imaginary hat, and bows low.

"Keep that up, Harley, my ego could use some stoking." This may or may not be a lie. "Now if you don't mind, there's a blonde headed garbage-pan out there who, I'm very sure, wants to talk with you; which would very conveniently allow me to proceed with the food.

That last bit elicited a frown, and another cock of the head, from her. You try not to meet her gaze.

"I've already been talking to them, and you've only just arrived. I want to talk with you now."

You shrug, unsure of what the _right_ response is if there is one. "Yeah, well…"

She doesn't seem to want to move, so you approach with the tray, only to meet disaster when you're ankle gives just for a moment, and you pitch forward. With the covered tray occupying your hands, you simply catch one glimpse at Jade, who hasn't had time yet to appropriate an expression. Your arms extend and one knee comes up, the other leg flails out from under you. You pre-emptively shut your eyes, brace for impact, direct as many curses at yourself that you can in such a short timeframe, and feel your chin connect with the tile floor before anything else.

"_All the sons of all the BITCHES!"_

Jade retains her stunned silence, but you hear Gamzee pipe up from the other room.

"All good in there, my best brotherly bro?"

"Just Goddamn peachy! Those worthless wind tunnels you call ears are working it seems!"

You peek open one eye again and—oh hell…

Chicken salad. _Everywhere_

Goddamn, do you hate chicken salad.

The runway of delicatessen treats runs from the no-longer-airworthy tray at your fingertips to Jade's shoes.

"Karkat?"

You can't help but look up, in a fashion not as adorabloodthirsty as you'd like. "Y-Yes?"

She snickers, because of course she does; "You are such a dork."

Unknowing of what to do or how to respond, you take a knee, and stand. You dust off your slacks only to stain them with chicken salad. _For the love of…_

"Shut that gaping red speak tube. You had time enough to help me." Why aren't you shouting? This is the most shout-worthy event of the past few days…

"It was a split second, you absolute dweeb!" She looks like she's about to buckle over in laughter.

You just stare at her mouth-agape and dumbfounded at her while she finishes her fit of giggles. Red cheeked and eyes pinned shut by merriment, glasses askew. You feel your shoulders drop; it's a moment of seeing her like this, in her element, which assaults you with the dreaded feels.

She meets your gaze again, finally, with a look you can't quite identify, and you start to feel a bit sick. You look for an out, and drop to your knees, hunch over, and wordlessly begin picking up lumps of cold gray cuisine from the floor.

"Karkat?"

You pretend not to hear. Instead you just feel a second presence on the floor. Risking a look, you can see Jade's joined you in your quest for the floored foodstuffs.

"I'm sorry I laughed at you Karkat."

You aren't looking at her anymore, but you can feel her gaze on the crown of your head. You want to say something, preferably very offensive, but nothing comes to mind.

_Karkat, what is with you lately?_

Instead, you stand, fists full of gray, lumpy nutrition, walk in a dignified manner toward the sink, and dump the food.

"I wouldn't be." As soon as you finish saying it, you turn your whole body to her, and lean back against the sink with your hands resting on the counter behind you.

She looks shocked with you and now that you mention it, rather pitying. You don't know how this got so melodramatic. You step across the room to her, gently grab her wrist, and pull it toward you from her side. It's loosely holding a chunk of the cursed chicken salad. You look into her eyes before turning her hand over into yours, claiming the squishy food bounty. And then, you can notice the tender, and foreign, look in her eyes, like she's beginning to expect you to kiss her. So you ever so gently bring your left hand to her cheek, and smear her face in chicken salad with your right.

_Take that world. Karkat Vantas doesn't take your shit lying down_

The look she has following is a mix of livid, and flabbergasted. The delicious deli prize occupying her left cheek and nose erases any hope of it being threatening.

In fact it makes it hilarious.

"Jade, Jade- I…" You struggle to form words in the midst of your laughter. It's rare enough, so it feel alien. "I'm sorry, but—I—I knew that… actually I'm not sorry at all! But I knew that-that your mind was going to arrive in the same course of action!" You fail to feel any regret

"So you plastered my face in this goop first!?"

"Absolutely!" By this point, the laughter is gone, but the memory hangs around. "Besides, you're always telling me to lighten up!"

"Not at my expense! And whenever I tell you to lighten up, you tell me, in no kind words, of all the different ways you'd pay to see me die!"

"Sorry, you've got to pick one or the other."

A smoldering glare is the best she can do as she starts to clean off her face. You feel compassion come back around, and fetch the paper towel roll.

She thanks you for it with a kick in the knee. Talk about ungrateful.

"C'mon Harley, you've got no right to be mad, quit it."

"I'm mad Karkat. No dice."

"Wait, so when Karkat falls into chicken salad wonderland, it's funny, but when Jade's precious little face suffers a bit of good natured salad smacking, it's a war crime?!"

"Yes, you jerk," She stops you as the picks of the last bits and pieces, "and you are a jerk." You aren't fooled; you see the smile on her as she bounces the roll of paper towels off your forehead. You return it during the following moment of understanding between the two of you.

"Are you two done clowning around in here?" Kanaya pokes her head around the doorframe looking un-amused, "Because we're all waiting for you."

Jade answers before you. Kanaya's entrance bade you drop the slight smile. "Yeah, there was just a little accident. Come on, Karkat!" She is once again as cheerful as ever as she practically skips out of the kitchen, leaving you standing there with Kanaya's gaze bearing down on you. It cracks into s smile, or a knowing grin. You can never tell with Kanaya…

"It's a winning smile, Karkat. You should use it more often."

"Oh, you want some chicken salad too? There's plenty enough for me to drown you in. Or you can turn right the hell around and glow or whatever somewhere else!"

"Oh, Karkat…" She still wears the smile when she leaves. You can hear conversation in the other room continuing, and you decide that they can wait.

Truth be told, Kanaya's comment had really struck a chord. He had a nice smile? He brushed his jaw as he heard it again in his head. Smile more? Smiling had always just seemed to lie in the realm beyond his identity.

_Shake it off, Vantas. Just Kanaya goofing around_.

You find your composure, well, as much composure being relative with you, and emerge into the living room. Not much changed, save for the fact that Jade was on the couch, and your re-entrance hadn't caused a stir.

"Looks like we're all packed into the moron squad clown-car."

"Best bro, don't be that way." Gamzee's smile just seemed to enrage you more. "Besides, we're all happy and at our best together."

You just dismiss him with a wave of your hand and sit down on the carpet. Everyone is sitting on or around the couch now and there's little talk for a moment.

Dave, oddly enough, breaks the silence.

"Rose, you said something about going to that new museum?"

"Hmm? Oh yes, well, it's not a museum, David, it's an art gallery, that I have tickets to attend. However, John and I can no longer spare the time. John will be performing on the Piano for the big musical opening downtown. The scheduled pianist canceled."

You _thought_ that idiot John looked extra excited today.

"Ahaa, John's big break! Well, let's all hope you don't get nervous before the show and miss all the wrong notes, eh? I can smell your fear…" Terezi cackles as she leans over the back of the couch at John. The barb is obvious, but apparently effective; he seems very nervous indeed.

"Er- ahh…yeah, haha," he pulls at his collar. "The cake should be done! Karkat, give me a hand?" He leaps up from the couch, and gives you that desperate look that says_ get me away from Terezi_.

You roll your eyes, but stand up. You know _that _feeling.

"So, the professional pianist thing is starting to pan out, eh? Soon your magic act will be taking off too." You ask while frosting a cake you swore you'd never frost moments ago, wearing the frilly apron you swore you'd never wear.

"Also, why am I frosting your stupid cake?"

"Because you got stupid chicken salad all over my floor, that's why. Now shut up and even out the frosting more."

You lock your death glare of defiance onto his gaze, goop frosting all over one edge of the breaded tall-circle, drop the spreader, flip him off with both hands, and take of the damned silly pink apron. Why does john even like this thing?

With an exasperated sigh he takes over cake duty. "And yeah, hopefully this gig might help me get started on doing piano professionally."

"How come you want to do that so bad? It's not like you guys need the money. Rose could pay for somewhere even better than this with all that money she got from that time we aren't allowed to know about." This is a mysterious subject that gives you both a shudder.

"I know we don't need money, but that's not the point. It's what I love to do, you know? And I want to be recognized; Sure, playing keyboard in the streets is fun, and it gets to people, and there's soul too it. I'll be doing _that_ probably until I die, but at the same time…" he looks like he can't find the words for the feeling, until his jaw sets, "I want to play in a goddamn suit in Carnegie Hall. Once I've done that I'll be finished with the business."

You know what he means. And hell, in your generosity, you gave him a well-deserved supportive shoulder clap.

"It'll work out, idiot."

"Think so Karka—"

The heartfelt broment was interrupted by six loud door knocks in quick succession.

"Who could that be? We're all here, right?" You ask puzzled at John.

John cringes, pulls at his collar, and generally looks as if he knows he's done something very bad.

"Well, you see, we invited someone else at the last minute…"

"Hello?" This call comes from beyond the front door. "Wwould someone let me in? I'm _so _tired from all this wwalkin."

John seems to shrink in fear from the glower of fury and death you give to him.

"You've baked your _last_ cake, _buddy-boy_…"


	3. Chapter 3

Neckties and the Art of Getting Kicked Out of Galleries

**Authors Note: I'm sorry if it took a while to get this next chapter up, but my updating might take about this time or longer in the future. If there's any sort of problem with that, feel free to contact me. On a side note, If you're interested in beta reading at all, I'm sure I'd appreciate another set of eyes on this thing. Send me a message if you have any questions or concerns with the story, and feel free to leave a review.**

Chapter 3

By Theta Waves

"No…"

"Now, Karkat, let me explain…" John puts his palms toward you in defense

"No, NO!" You shout as you grab at the front of his shirt, "Tell me you didn't!"

"Come on Karkat, he's so lonely; we thought—"

"You thought WRONG you son of a bitch! You invited Eridan Ampora!?"

You push him against the fridge as you nearly froth at the mouth.

"Why would you ever even consider inviting that whiny, elitist, jackass?!"

"John puts his hands on your shoulders trying to calm you down. You think he might be about to pap you on the head, but seems to be afraid you'd bite his hand off. And he'd be right.

"Karkat, just let us-"

"NO. NOPE! Hear me, Egbert! I am going to throttle you! I hope that grand piano falls of your legs and cripples you! I-I-I…"

You let go of him, still steaming. You hear a door open, a few muffled greeting, and the shuffling of feet.

"John, I hate you so much. So very, platonically, much."

"No, Karkat, he's our friend. He just wants to be loved, man, and so help me god if you're mean to him-"

"He's a murderer, John!"

"So is Gamzee! Look, Karkat, we've all done things we're not admittedly proud of, but Eridan's changed! If you didn't avoid him like the plague you'd know that."

Oh there is no way…

"I'm staying in here." You pout and sit cross-legged on the floor."

"Karkat, this is ridiculous"

"Nope. Staying here."

"This is so immature of you." John buries his face in his hands.

"Like I care."

"Karkat, get out there or I will personally give Eridan your address. Do you want Eridan to know where you live? And how do you think Sollux would react?"

You retain a dignified silence for a moment as you mull it over. You really, _really_, don't want Eridan knowing where you live.

"Fine then, Karkat. Have fun with Eridan's future visits."

"Oh, fine!" You concede defeat on this one. "You've got me. I'll make nice with squid-scarf."

You take one last withering hate-gaze at John, spin on your heels, and stomp into the living room. Eridan has, sure enough, squeezed right between an uncomfortable looking Dave and Jade. Eridan, however, is just grinning that dumb grin he gets when he thinks he's making friends. And then he spots you, that jerk.

"Hey, Kar!"

Your mouth snaps open, and your brain runs it on a single impulse: "I hate you"

You didn't even say it particularly maliciously. However, hearing it took him aback, and he is visibly cringing and looking otherwise hurt. Instead of tending to his feelings like a more merciful-feeling you would, you just take your spot on the floor back. Why was there practically no furniture in this godforsaken place?

Now Eridan has a wobbly lip, and more than a few of your friends are looking at you as if you just shook the crib of a baby they had just finally gotten to sleep.

"Wwhy wwould you say that, Kar?"

The look you shoot him says 'Dude, are you kidding?' and your mouth says the same.

"Kar, I'vve done nothin' but lovve you."

You're about to shout all of the reasons why you're justified to hate him when Kanaya drives an elbow into your ribs. This makes you decide to ignore Eridan, even though he still looks like a kicked puppy. Until Jade tries to break the tension by striking conversation back up.

"So! Eridan, how is water polo going? You said they might be letting you go professional?"

You had no idea that professional water polo existed, but you've seen far stranger things.

"Wwhy, yes, Jade, those daft fools havve realized the raww talent they'd be passin' up if they let me go." Oh great she's blown his ego up. "In fact, they said they wwere blowwn awway by howw much of a natural I wwas out there. Fittin' though, that they should…"

You check out, as you're fairly certain the others do. You're amazed anyone can take him going on and on. But you'd probably be zoning out no matter what; you can only focus on Jade. While everyone else looks borderline catatonic, Jade is actually managing to look courteously interested, and frankly, you're impressed. She's sitting very slightly forward, picking at the hem of her flowing long-skirt, and you notice her glasses are perched precariously close to the tip of her nose as she looks down. You'd never say so, but you found her glasses adorable. For a brief moment she pouts at something in her mid, and you cock your head to the side because, by god, you've got to know what it is. When she catches you staring for a moment she grins and sticks her tongue out at you.

_I was just spacing out, _you mouth to her_, don't flatter yourself_.

She points at Eridan with her eyes, causing you to roll yours and nod.

_Yeah, he can drone a bit, _is her non-verbal reply.

In a moment when the lights played strangely around her, you saw a very clear picture of her in your mind. You saw her, in one of your sweaters, at your table, reading a newspaper, all the while sipping your secret recipe coffee from your favorite mug. Big reveal, your secret recipe is actually just piss poor coffee, because you can't make a pot to save your life.

Reality snaps its head back to you when Terezi gets up to exclaim that she left the gas on at home, or something equally ridiculous, and that she should probably go turn it off. As she nearly jogged from the apartment, ignoring several stares (even from its own tenants) that said '_Please don't leave me', _a cackling laughter was reportedly heard.

"Goodbye Tez! It wwas so good to see you!" Eridan was the only one with verbal parting words. You were definitely _not_ starting to think that maybe he wasn't as insufferable and hate-able as you remembered. "Noww, wwhere wwas I? Ahh yes, -"

"Uh, the cake! I, uh, I didn't bring out the cake!" Nice save by John. It is with this smooth move that he temporarily shut Eridan up, and absconded to the kitchen. You can feel the air of '_I want to get out of here; this is so uncomfortable_' permeate the room. Damn you, Terezi, why did you have to be the smart one and leave? We've all received more than our daily dose of Eridan.

Dave doesn't even announce where he's going when he gets up and wanders into the hallway, but when Kanaya calls his name in the form of a question he simply calls out, "Bathroom!"

"So, Jade," Eridan starts, and you immediately wish he would stop, in your livid not-jealousy, "If you wanted to learn howw to play the sport, I'm sure I could find time to showw you." He's trying to be smooth, but comes across as punch-able. Jade looks like she's trying to distance herself.

"Jegus H. Christ, what's taking Dave so damn long?!" your outburst seems to break Eridan's attention on Jade, and she volunteers to go check on him, but before she could get up and away from fish gills, Gamzee, oblivious to the awesome distraction you set up for her, assures her that he's got it and slinks into the hall.

"Well guys, I hope you like the cake! Frosted by our very own Karkat Vantas. Ain't she a beaut'?" Egbert emerges from the kitchen with a pink cake that is all too familiar. John seems to have fixed the frosting, though, and starts distributing slices. Eridan accepts with some visible disdain; sometimes human food still makes him sneer. He's not fooling anyone, the pretentious dork loves the stuff.

When Egbert hands you your plateful you thank him, as well as distribute a choice expletive, and begin scarfing down. Not ironically either; you absolutely shovel the stuff in.

"Karkat, don't eat so fast! Are you even tasting it?" You look up, cheeks full of cake, to respond to Jade, who's been eating rather delicately. You decide to furrow your brow and tip the plate in order to dump the remains into your open chute.

"Damn it, Karkat…" She says as she lifts her glasses to rub the bridge of her nose.

"Jade, I eat my food the way it pleases me. And I change that for no one." You squint with determination at her and she returns the sentiment.

"Is that a challenge?"

"Hell no."

"I think it was."

"You'd be wrong to think that."

"I accept your challenge."

"What?"

She leans back smugly, "You all take witness that I, Jade Harley, have accepted the challenge issued by Karkat Vantas, to change his eating habits."

"No, no, none of you confirm that, you hear me?" As soon as the words leave your mouth the room resounds with confirmations of Jade's behalf.

"You can all go to hell." You cross your arms in a huff. "And where's Gamzee? Gamzee, get the hell back in here!"

He emerges, visibly unfazed, without Dave, and grabs a slice. He doesn't grab a fork, though.

"Sorry bro, just got a little turned around. Spaced out admiring the view from John and Rose's window."

"It overlooks the alley."

He has no real response, and Rose turns to him.

"Where's Dave? Weren't you checking on him?"

"Oh, Dave-bro? Didn't see him. The bathroom was empty. Also, the fire escape outside your window is down."

"*Urp* Jade? Jade?"

"Yes, Karkat?"

"Jaaade…"

"What do you _want?_"

"Why'd you let me eat so much cake?"

Following Dave's sudden and stylish departure, you had all decided that the now surplus cake shouldn't go to waste, what with Dave and Terezi gone and all. Plus, with abundance of cake already present… The Great Eating began.

And now your insides hurt.

"My insides hurt, and I feel like you all should know."

Jade giggles at you from her sprawled position on the floor. "Shut up."

You lay on the other side of the coffee table, but by turning your head, you could see Jade opposite you.

You scowl at her response, but it's really just an excuse to look at her some more. Gog. The carpet had one of her cheeks pushed up. Her smile made it just as cute. Her hair fell in every way, except, miraculously, in any way that would cover her face. You wish she would look at you like that all of the time, with the light playing off her face in the exact same way. Despite the selfishness of it, you couldn't help but wish that she would only look at you that way, and it made you feel rather bittersweet. As hauntingly beautiful as it is, it _has_ to be bittersweet, you guess.

"No, _you_ shut up, Harley."

She wrinkles up her nose and giggles helplessly; squealing, one might even call it. You change your mind, _this_ is the moment you want to live in.

"Karkat, you're the most adorable thing."

"I am not."

"Oh, but you are."

"Blar."

You had been beginning to think that maybe the moment would spin on into eternity, but, alas, the universe enjoys to frown upon Karkat Vantas' wishes. A literal shadow fell across Jade, and a figurative one your spirits, as you both look up to see Fish-Butt McHopeyoudrown standing over her.

And he's looking unusually pompous and proud.

"*Ahem* Madam Harley?"

"Yeah, Eridan?"

"I heard of a convversation that occurred earlier here today, pertaining to twwo extra tickets for a recently opened gallery. As I am a connoisseur of art, evven of the inferior human vvariety, I think it may servve you wwell to accompany me."

Jade's physical expression doesn't change much, but you can tell she's apprehensive.

"Oh, Eridan, I-I'm sorry, but I'm already going to the gallery with a friend." You'll have to ask her how she can sound so empathetic, but also not condescending.

"Oh, really," Eridan seems suspicious, and _Eridan, what the hell, you have no right to ask anything like that_. You're starting to get nervous enough to consider intervening. Eridan doesn't take rejection well.

"And wwho are you goin' wwith?"

"Well," she drops her head sideways to smile at you, "Karkat's coming with me."

You adopt an expression of surprise, like that of the current Eridan. "Karkat's coming with you?" Wow, referring to yourself in the third-person feels weird.

"Yes, idiot-troll, Karkat, being you, is coming with me," she confirms.

Eridan looks at you and asks, "Is this true?"

You switch your gaze quickly from her, to him, and back before shrugging.

"Karkat's going with her."

**Post-script Author's Note: For any fans of Eridan out there who read this and were horrified by Eridan's portrayal here, I'm sorry if I butchered him. All of the hateful things were from Karkat's mind, I hope you know, as the story is from primarily his eyes. It was meant to be a more humorous approach to Eridan's neuroticism, and didn't mean to offend.**


	4. Chapter 4

Neckties and the Art of Getting Kicked Out of Galleries

**Author's Note: Wow, the time sure does get away from you. Even for those of us with very few obligations, something as trivial as school is enough to delay story writing for weeks at a time, so if you were waiting, I'm sorry about that. As always, message me if you'd be interested in being a Beta reader, I can always use a second pair of eyes. Read and Review!**

By:

Theta Waves

Chapter 3

_ 3__rd__ and Baldwin…_

_ You're picking her up on the corner of 3__rd__ and Baldwin._

On any other Saturday you'd probably, no, definitely be still in bed, doubtlessly in pajamas and watching "Sleepless in Trolleatle" on your husktop for the forty-eighth time. But today was like no other day, no, today was special. So special, you think you might puke your guts out on the sidewalk and all over your shoes from all this pure excitement. Today is the fateful day you're to be perusing the local snooty art gallery with Jade Harley.

After yesterday's frivolities at Rose's, you and Jade parted ways outside the apartment door, with her writing an address down on your hand and telling you to be there at 3:00. You stammered and told her she better not forget, before going in for a completely business-like handshake. A handshake, Karkat? Auspicious start, indeed.

_At least I don't have to wear a tie_, you reflect; you've decided a white button up and slacks (again) was classy enough for a gallery, and suitable to impress Jade. Who are you kidding… You spent the previous night devouring two quarts of human ice cream while having an out loud panic attack to Sollux. Less to Sollux, and really just out loud to yourself. The day you take Sollux's romantic advice is the day the ocean is replaced with flip-flops. Your frenzy of Cherry Garcia rambling got so loud at one point that the neighbors stopped by to tell you to shut the hell up. But they're assholes anyway. It ended with your roommate telling you what an absolute baby you were being, and that, as a "grown-ass troll" you can handle one afternoon just fine. He more or less forcibly put you to sleep afterwards.

At least the weathers fine. Hell, the weathers just dandy: slight breeze parting the summer blaze. As you approach the address scrawled on your hand (and it was a small comfort that you could still feel her cool fingers around your wrist), something seems wrong. The place that you confirm to be the corner of 3rd and Baldwin as you study a street sign looks like no apartment building you've ever seen. It's a squat, brick building, two stories with great wide windows and a hell of a playground. Two things that should, but don't, usually find themselves at apartment complexes.

You're actually a bit early, and so approach the chain-link fence and study the unoccupied recreation zone. Just a square plot of pavement thirty feet to a side that cuts into where the building should be, creating a corner sheltered by the safety of the chain partition which you presently are holding with your fingertips. The sound that chain fences make when they're so much as brushed, that rattle of alloy and mesh, has never failed to unsettle you. Pretty standard stuff, really, swings, a sandbox, four square, hop-scotch… You can't help but snicker at the plastic boxes of sidewalk chalk that lie, often spilled over, on the blacktop. Terezi would have jumped the fence in a heartbeat. But what you really like is the mural.

Covering the vast majority of the brick construct holding the playground in check, in paints and brushstrokes, is the depiction of swirling patterns, images and scenes. It's the same kind of subject matter as most murals found in city school: children of every creed and colour all getting along wonderfully and revitalizing your faith in the strength of the human spirit; Flora and Fauna of Earth mingling in with the children in a delightful community with green grass and rolling hills extending seamlessly into the azure sky. The skill level jumps between that of toddlers and the confident fine-motor skills of an adult who you assume to be their teacher. On one end, a colour pattern twirls and tumbles across the brick, and on another, strokes concentrate to form the shape of a very familiar barkbeast which causes your heart to jump into your throat for a moment. A few moments, actually.

_How in the hell…_

And then you can see why.

Through one of the windows that interrupt the wall, children in their infinite snot-nosedness sit at tiny table, dabbing their little sausage fingers into paints and glues and blocks. Crouching by one to help one of them, with raven hair spilling over her shoulders, forcing you to reel in shock, and more or less stunning you, is Jade Harley, the teacher.

You're not really sure why you're so surprised, she must've mentioned it before. That and the fact that it suits her perfectly. You can't imagine that any non-sociopathic child could ever do a thing against her will. She was exactly the kind of spirit that loved what she did, and in a very human way, it spread to those she touched. Doubtless, those little rats were pleasant, doted on their beautiful teacher, and hung off of her every word. Karkat, get a hold of yourself. Somehow, you still manage to look as if the window had begun talking to you, probably it would say, "Hey, my eyes are up here, you misogynist prick. The nerve of some people…"

You begin moving to the door to go inside, but think better of it. For just a moment, you'd like to be here. Right here, looking in at her from the outside. Perfect in her perfect lime green dress and cardigan. With her perfect smile that put the mural to shame. Right now, you don't have to be Karkat. You don't have to be angry, because you're a stranger, nameless and faceless. Maybe that's why you rather like the city. Nobody knows you who you don't want to know you. If you want to stand at the sidewalk and stare at a gorgeous creature, then by god, you could.

You probably look dopey right now, but who cares. For just a minute or two in your life, in your mind, things were alright. Serene.

Before she caught you looking, that is.

Doubtless she felt the weight of your lovey-dovey gaze, and glanced up…

And grey meets green.

So you scowl at her. She raises a finger, as if telling you to wait just a moment, gives a parting word to the child she was helping, and disappears from view of the window.

Now you're just dumbfounded.

And in a moment the door up the stoop to your left opens, and Jade leans out waving at you. On the way here, you tried to psyche yourself up, telling yourself that you could handle seeing her, and when it got down to it, you could rely on yourself not to be a gaping moron. Well, you were horribly wrong, because Jade in all her loveliness is here just twenty feet from you and the synapses in your brain fail. Another piece of damning evidence against past-Karkat. You stuff your hands in your pockets and walk to the door, taking your sweet time about it. Only when you're standing in the doorframe with her, possibly having an aneurism, do you speak after a mutual pause.

"You Teach" Are the only words you have.

"Well," she shrugs and looks away momentarily, "I try." She has her nose wrinkled up in a smile again.

"You try?"

"You can lead a hoofbeast to water, Karkat, but short of dunking his head underwater, you can't make him drink."

"Ah, the profound wisdom of Jade Harley. Wish I'd brought a notebook." _Nailed it._

She rolls her eyes and appears to conclude the friendly banter.

"You're a bit early, you eager beaver you, and so the kids won't be out of here for another ten minutes. You can wait in my classroom if you like."

You motion your arm down the hall,

"Lead the way." She leads the way.

"Well I for one can't wait to meet the little shits—oof!"

'Oof' denotes the elbow below your ribs: A sharp elbow that most likely belongs to Jade. You hold your middle and hunch, turning your head to see her still as bright and smiley as ever.

"Karkat, if you use so much as an ounce of that language around my kids in there, I'll sock you so hard in the mouth that the tooth fairy will leave government bonds under your pillow."

"Tooth fairy? How high is that on the echeladder?"

"Glad we understand each other."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *  
There is a popular theory floating about that it is virtually impossible to retain one's dignity in one of those silly tiny plastic toddler chairs that bend when you so much as shift your weight.

You can testify to the validity of this, sitting knees to chest in one such chair, shins against the edge of a chipped plastic table in a brightly coloured and densely decorated room that smells slightly of paint as most kindergartens do.

When Jade led you to the classroom she assured you that the kids would be friendly and wonderful and would melt your heart in a manner similar to Ebola. You hoped this to be true, and in a perfectly rom-comesque way, the kids would fall in love with you and Jade would be instantly swooning over kid-friendly Karkat. The kids would hold up signs that would spell out your marriage proposal, she would scream her answer into the heavens, and both of you would smooch into the sunset forever more.

What actually transpired was Jade's introduction of "her good if somewhat rude friend Karkat" followed by blank stares, uncomfortable shifting in chairs, and a pencil thrown in your direction. Kids have good aim nowadays

You turned, giving Jade an almost pleading look. She buried her face in her hand, and led you to your current seat in between two of the little monsters at the previously mentioned table, as Jade made rounds assisting with colouring, and making preparations for the end of the school day.

Hell, she even saw fit to give you a sheet of paper and some crayons, though your drawings have yet to amount to much.

"Hey, mister."

Your quiet contemplation is interrupted when you discover you're being accosted by a chubby youngster desperately trying to give you his drawing, likely for peer review.

"Uh, I… do you need something?"

"The red crayon."

"Huh?"

He jabs a pudgy finger to your left and repeats himself.

"Uh, oh! Yeah sure, here." He wordlessly enclosed the bit of coloured wax in his hand and continued to scribble into the parchment.

Oh shit, you needed the red crayon. Damn.

"Hey, Kahkah?" This new pronunciation of your name perturbs you, but to each his own.

"Y-yes?"

"You're Miss Hawley's grumpy friend, right?" Another new pronunciation…

"Grumpy friend? _That's_ what she said?"

"Mmm-hmm. She said you were grumpy and kind of loud."

"Oh. And?"

"And what?"

"Did she say anything else?"

"Well, she had a dog once and-"

"About me, you little blu- I mean you precious angel. What about me has she said?"

He looks you up and down as if assessing you for a very long moment.

"Nope. Not really."

You drop your jaw a bit. This doesn't immediately register as good or bad news.

You sigh and thank him anyway. Again you begin soul searching, among other things.

"She said you're sweet."

"What?" This last part was a little loud, but it was a shocking development. You lean in a little closer to him. "Are you kidding, kid?"

"No. She said that. But I0 don't see it." Cheeky little guy. You put on an expression of impressed astonishment and rest your jaw on your hand. The kid, as said before, is chubby, a toddler, has a mushroom cut (a punishable offense in your opinion), kind of beady dark eyes, and a striped polo shirt.

"Can I look at your drawing, kid?"

With a slide of paper across plastic, you now find yourself in possession of fine art, the subject of which was indiscernible. To this day, that fact still haunts you. You'll find yourself on a train and wondering just what it was. You'll be waiting in the doctor's office and trying to decode the shroud of colour. Picking up your prescription for athlete's foot which you never tell anyone about ever, and wracking your brain as to what it could have been. Never does it leave your mind at peace; always will it pull at your consciousness, stabbing at the back of your eyelids. Or so you expect. At this point you figure it was one of three things, the three being (1) a dinosaur in a dunce cap, (2) a Polaroid at the bottom of the sea, or (3) the greatest masterpiece Jackson Pollock never made. All in all a 6 out of 10.

You pass it back to him, nod appreciatively and remark, "It's pretty bitchin'" You honestly don't know why you chose the term 'bitchin.' You didn't mean to swear, and it's not even a swear word that you're particularly fond of. You just didn't want to talk down to the little Picasso. You gave him an honest, respectful review. Plus, you're pretty certain nobody heard so you're in the clear.

He grins as he takes the paper back into his paws, even wrinkling it a little.

"Yeah… bitchin'"

That could be a problem. You run a hand through your hair.

"Kids!"

All heads, yours included, snap up to the front of the room. There Jade stands bright and all smiles and all incredible in all of the ways that it is possible to be and some impossible ways. Quantum incredibility. In the most endearing goddamn way possible, holds her hands together down at her front to announce the end of the day, how their parents were all waiting to bring them home, and how she would miss them all very much. She really looked to mean that last part too...

Mushroom Cut puts the now stubby red crayon back in your hand before scrambling out the door, assumingly to his loving parents. In mere moments the place is empty, accepting for you and Jade. The only evidence of those children is the fact that not a single goddamn one of them apparently knows how to push a chair in.

"Aren't they just the most adorable little things, Karkat?" Jade is either deathly serious or teasing you. No middle ground at the moment. From the glassy eyed look that would otherwise have you unconscious, your guess is the former.

"Yeah, just delightful. I've probably contracted ludicrous amounts of diseases from those rodents."

"You can't fool me Karkat," she says as she begins pushing chairs back in, "I saw how chummy you were getting with Bradley. You love those kids to Karkat, admit it. You're like their big brother, you just want to shoosh pap every single one of them, don't you?"

"Piss off. Bradley, that's his name? I referred to him as 'Mushroom cut' in my head. Tragedy really."

"I adore Bradley. I'd adopt him and his chubby little cheeks if I could." She's starry eyed and grinning.

"So what's stopping you?"

She looks at you like the idiot you are before answering:

"The fact that he has parents."

"Right those. I find that they do generally oppose having their charges adopted right out from under them. But he might be better off with you if his parents let him have that haircut."

"It's so great that you can always find the worst in people, Karkat."

"Well, even with all my skill it isn't flawless. Take you for instance. The worst I can find in you is that you make the people surrounding you as happy with themselves as you…"

And then you sort of trailed off because _why the hell would you say that!? _You didn't even mean to say it; it just sort of slipped out. Your eyes snap wide open and you nearly fling the chair you were pushing in when you realized the magnitude of idiocy you just spewed from your grubloaf tube. That was so creepy too; I wouldn't be surprised if she bashed your head in and called the cops.

Instead, after an eternity-moment of intense silence, she crosses the minefield of a classroom, silently smiles a warm reassurance, and brushes your hand, ever so lightly, with hers.

She doesn't say anything. Neither do you. You're too nervous and flushed in both respects to even look at her. You feel her eyes on you just the same. As kind and gentle as the gaze is, it does nothing to ease you. Finally you decide to just look at her face.

Smiles are really all in the eyes. Next smile you see, or even in a mirror, focus on the eyes. The mouth muscles involved in smiling are useless; you'll find all of the beauty in her/his/its eyes. They can also be a hot knife too. Like blown glass, the eyes can tell you most everything you need to know.

The only word you can really think of to describe her face is radiant, insofar as her face literally radiates… radiates… there's no word for it. Compassion? Humanity? Depth? Love? You're really hoping on love.

_Oh hell, you idiot_, you admit to yourself, _you're in love with her._

She's just looking at you, into you, waiting for you to be comfortable with being looked into, or even looking back. You shut your eyes for two long seconds hoping that you'll be home when you open them. You even click your heels for good measure. But no, still green eyes. Disappointing at first, and then sparks bloom around your heart. She's getting ready to speak. You'd listen to her talk until you died.

"You ready to see some goddamn art?"

"What?"

With that answer of grace, a Jade whirlwind sweeps you by the arm out of the classroom…

…And into the maelstrom.


End file.
